Not Quite Invincible
by everyonedeservesachancetoFLY
Summary: Enjolras gets the flu and, naturally, is too stubborn to want to go through the ordeal of being sick like an average person. (Modern Day AU. Rated T because, honestly, I just rate everything T.)


**Not Quite Invincible**** - Chapter One**

**Disclaimer: Victor Hugo was not a teenage girl living in the United States in the twenty-first century, now, was he?**

**A/N: This will be both my first completed sickfic and my first completed Les Mis fic, so I'm rather excited! Well… I feel a bit bad about what I'm about to do to Enjolras, but… it's not like other authors haven't done it before, he's a really good sickfic character because he would deny everything and try to tough it out for as long as possible. Also, I put them in a modern-era college AU because I'm not really sure of all the logistics that would go along with making it a canon-era story, and when I thought up the ideas for the story I envisioned them in the twenty-first century.**

**Someday, for some fandom, I will write a historical era fic, I promise!**

**And without further ado, I present… this fanfic. The trip to the art museum mentioned in the first paragraph does not tie into anything; I just wanted them to have been on a day trip, and since Paris has great art museums, I figured that that would be a good option.**

* * *

It was a Sunday afternoon, and the group known as les Amis de l'ABC had spent their day thus far at an art museum. How exactly they had decided to go to an art museum and how certain art lovers in the group had convinced a certain blond leader that that was a good idea was a bit of a mystery, even to them, but they had had an enjoyable day at the museum nonetheless and were now driving back to their various homes near the campus of the university.

Combeferre was driving his two roommates as well as Prouvaire and Éponine. The three non-driving males had consented to letting Éponine sit in the passenger seat, so Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Jehan were all in the backseat. Soon after they dropped Éponine off and set off for Jehan's apartment, Enjolras realized that he suddenly felt ready to fall asleep right then and there. He had felt perfectly fine all day, but suddenly he was too tired to even think straight, which generally never happened to him; maybe if he just closed his eyes for a moment... and Courfeyrac's shoulder seemed like a nice pillow…

Courfeyrac noticed immediately that Enjolras appeared to have fallen asleep on his shoulder. He chuckled softly and ruffled the slightly younger man's hair. "Look, I think our fearless leader finally tired himself out…"

Jehan looked over at them with vague concern but then smiled. "Hm… that's unlike him. It has to happen to everyone from time to time, though."

Combeferre just looked in the rearview mirror and shook his head, smiling a bit to himself. Enjolras probably hadn't been sleeping much during the week, as was customary for him, so of course he would be tired. It was impossible for anyone to constantly run on so little rest without falling asleep at random times now and then.

By the time they had dropped Jehan off and returned to their own apartment, Enjolras hadn't woken up yet, so finally Courfeyrac shook him awake. "Enjy, wake up!"

Still a bit dazed, Enjolras blinked and sat up straight, blushing slightly when he realized that he had just been sleeping on his friend's shoulder. "Are we getting out of the car?" He winced slightly; where did that sore throat come from?

"Yeah, you were asleep for most of the ride home," Courfeyrac replied, not noticing how the blond had looked a bit uncomfortable after speaking.

The three of them got out of the car and went up to the apartment that they shared. Combeferre made note of the fact that Enjolras still looked rather confused and about to fall asleep again. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine… just…" Enjolras paused, frowning slightly. "You don't think it would be bad if I went back to sleep for a bit, do you?"

"No, if you're tired then you probably need to get some sleep."

"All right… well… I think I've done all of my homework this weekend… I can wake up later and look it over if I haven't," he concluded, decisive as usual but rambling a bit due to his tiredness. With that said, he went to his room.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged a look, and Combeferre gave a small shake of his head. "He's not waking up anytime soon."

"No, he seems pretty out of it," Courfeyrac agreed.

"I hope he's not coming down with anything. He's probably just really tired, but we'll have to keep an eye on him."

* * *

Several hours passed before Enjolras woke up again, and the first thing he noticed upon waking was that it was completely dark in his room. The second was that he was extremely cold. He sat up, shutting his eyes tightly and biting his lower lip when he was suddenly assaulted by a head rush, and then opened his eyes again and looked at his alarm clock.

It was after eleven o'clock at night?!

He began to panic slightly, realizing that he had been asleep for more than seven hours. Quickly he turned on the lamp next to his bed and went to his desk, looking over the homework papers that were still there. They were all finished… thank goodness. Finally he took a deep breath – noticing in the process that his throat was still sore – and made a neat stack of his papers, shoving them carefully into the nearest binder.

And now, to resolve the fact that he was still freezing.

He silently slipped out of his room and to the closet where they kept extra pillows and blankets, taking a random blanket and returning to his room. Hopefully that would work. He got back into bed with the extra blanket and tried to go back to sleep, a nagging thought in the back of his mind daring to suggest that maybe he was getting sick.

_I'm not sick_, he thought, scowling a bit to himself and brushing off the thought.

* * *

Enjolras couldn't really sleep properly for the rest of the night, and when his alarm clock went off at seven o'clock the next morning, it broke him out of his semi-asleep daze by giving him a headache and making him feel rather annoyed. He turned off the offending alarm and sat down on his bed to assess his current condition. What seemed to be a positive sign was that his throat was no longer sore, but he had a headache still – it had to be from the damn loud alarm – and he just felt generally… slightly bad. Dazed, somewhat unsteady, generally uncomfortable… it was probably nothing, though. He stood up and picked out clothing from his closet, then went to the bathroom to shower and commence his daily routine. Enjolras merely ignored the looks that Combeferre and Courfeyrac gave him all morning after he claimed that he felt perfectly fine.

* * *

As the day progressed, however, he had to admit to himself that he probably was not perfectly fine. His headache only got worse, which caused him to become a bit nauseous as well, and by the end of his classes for the day his "generally slightly bad" feeling had increased to what Joly might fear was a "generally slightly dying" feeling. Not that he believed himself to be dying, of course; it just hurt slightly to breathe, and he felt restless and a bit shaky. He decided to walk home from class because the cool air made him feel somewhat better, but unfortunately the feeling didn't last long.

Still, he wasn't sick. They had a meeting at the Café Musain later in the evening, and the next day he had to go to a question and answer session with one of his professors. Julien Enjolras did not get sick at such inopportune times. By virtue of that logic, or perhaps his own stubbornness, he was most definitely not sick.

By the time that les Amis all met in the Musain that evening, it seemed that everyone except for Enjolras had noticed that he was actually beginning to look sick, his face having taken on a concerningly pale shade.

Joly interrupted him as he was about to begin his speech for the night. "You don't really look well, are you sure you shouldn't be at home resting?" he asked, concerned for the blond's health as well as the possibility of him passing on any illness to the rest of the group.

Enjolras simply shot him a death glare and began his speech. No one else challenged him, so he finished speaking and stepped down from the tabletop. Suddenly he felt tired again; giving speeches normally didn't take so much out of him, and he frowned, still refusing to admit to the possibility that he might not be completely well. He blinked, trying to clear his head. "I'm going to do some work now." Generally he wanted to discuss his ideas with the group after his speeches, but he really didn't have the energy at the moment. He sat down at the table where he had put his laptop and his school papers and began to work on one of his class assignments.

Joly looked ready to start questioning Enjolras about his health again, but Combeferre stopped him before he could do so; he knew that the best thing to do about an Enjolras who was quite possibly ill was to leave him be and keep a careful eye on him to make sure that he didn't try to fight it too much.

Grantaire, of course, would never simply settle for letting Enjolras be, so he approached him and sat next to him. "Hey, Apollo, what's up?"

"Homework," Enjolras replied coolly, looking annoyedly at him. The smell of the alcohol that the other was, per usual, carrying with him wasn't helping his headache or nausea. Despite his drunken state, Grantaire seemed to notice that to an extent, so he pushed the bottle farther away from Enjolras.

"You know… Joly's right… you kind of do look sick."

"I'm not sick."

"Right…" He laughed. "I forgot. Gods don't get sick, do they? You're invincible or something?"

"Shut up, Grantaire," Enjolras snapped, focusing on his paper.

Grantaire merely continued on his tirade of sarcasm. "Of course, if you were a human like the rest of us, it would be normal to assume you're sick if you look sick. But normal human logic is no match for Apollo."

Enjolras forced himself not to respond to that by yelling at Grantaire; his headache was bringing his patience for the often-drunk man even lower than usual.

Courfeyrac suddenly sat down across from them and picked up the bottle, taking a sip from it. "Hey, guys." He looked at Grantaire. "Enjolras doesn't admit to being sick, by the way. Thought you knew that about him already."

Enjolras looked up from his work and shot him an irritated look. "I'm not – "

"Sick, I know." He smiled, getting up. As he passed Grantaire, he patted him on the shoulder and muttered a quiet "Give it up, man."

* * *

After the meeting was adjourned, they all returned to their respective homes again. Enjolras was continuing to work on his homework in his bedroom, but his headache was getting even worse and he could barely focus. Since when was his handwriting so difficult to read? He couldn't keep track of what he was writing because the effort it took to concentrate his vision on the words was physically painful; somewhere in there, his hand had also begun to tremble slightly and he couldn't write properly. He set his pen down, closed his eyes, and resisted the urge to simply go to sleep right at his desk – anything to get rid of the headache – and finally resolved to get up and get himself some painkillers. After getting two pain pills from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and a glass of water from the kitchen, then taking the pills, he returned to his room and sat back down, trying to force himself to focus again.

Within a few minutes, he noticed that his head had begun to spin and finally he allowed himself to push his work aside and rest his head on his arms for a moment, trying to block out all of the light from his lamp. It didn't help; on the contrary, he also began to feel more nauseous as well. Although it was different from the usual headache-nausea that he had been experiencing all day and that he usually got whenever he had bad headaches; now it felt more desperate, in a way. He straightened up quickly, eyes widening. _Oh, no_. Standing from his desk, he made his way to the bathroom as calmly as possible, struggling not to trip over anything in his dizzy state.

In his own room, Combeferre was interrupted from his work when he heard someone walking – or rather tripping slightly – and then opening and closing the bathroom door, followed by a few coughs. He sighed, getting up and following to the bathroom. In all honesty, he wasn't very surprised when he opened the door and saw that Enjolras apparently hadn't thrown up yet but was clearly going to. He knelt down next to the younger man and rubbed his back gently, not saying anything. When the blond finally did throw up – repeatedly – he simply brushed his hair back to keep it out of the way and continued rubbing his back.

"Urgh, that's so gross," Enjolras muttered after he was finished. Combeferre couldn't actually see the expression on his face, but he would be willing to bet that his friend was probably glaring at the moment.

Courfeyrac approached, looking in through the still-opened door. "He threw up?" He looked questioningly at Combeferre. "Should I get him a glass of water?"

The bespectacled man nodded, and soon the other returned with a glass of water and handed it to him. Combeferre ordered Enjolras to rinse his mouth out and then set the rest of the water on the sink counter, flushing the toilet and then helping the blond to stand up. Predictably, Enjolras immediately started back toward his bedroom and, as Combeferre and Courfeyrac soon noticed, toward his desk to continue working. It didn't matter that his head felt as if it were being split in two; he had to finish his homework because he had to go to class the next day and he couldn't show up without his work done. He looked over at the other two, struggling not to flinch at the blinding pain that the lamplight was causing his head. "What?" he stated flatly.

"Only you, Enjolras," replied Courfeyrac, laughing slightly but looking concerned.

"Get away from that paperwork and lie down," Combeferre commanded, crossing to Enjolras' desk and all but pulling him onto his feet and guiding him to his bed.

"I can't go to class tomorrow if my work isn't finished," he protested weakly, allowing himself to be steered to bed and sat down.

Combeferre looked more closely at his younger friend's face and noticed his pained expression. "Headache?"

Enjolras nodded hesitantly, closing his eyes.

"Have you taken any painkillers?"

"I have… but I just threw them up… so…" He trailed off.

"Well… headaches and painkillers can both cause nausea sometimes. Will you be all right if you don't take any more for now?"

Another nod.

Combeferre laid his hand on Enjolras' forehead and cringed. "Courfeyrac, would you please get me a thermometer?"

"Sure." Courfeyrac left and returned moments later with the thermometer, handing it to Combeferre. "Here you go."

Combeferre managed to get the reluctant Enjolras to put the thermometer in his mouth and then waited, noting the blond's slight wince at the beeping noise when the reading was finished. He looked at the screen. "Thirty-nine degrees…" He looked at Enjolras, who had opened his eyes, and raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to class tomorrow."

"But tomorrow I have that question and answer session, and I need to ask questions…" He frowned, almost feeling like crying from the headache and now the stress of missing that lecture.

"I have that with you, I could ask questions," Courfeyrac offered.

Enjolras looked at him with a surprised, childish look. "Really?" He switched to a serious look that was more characteristic of him. "Ask good questions and take notes. Legible notes, please."

Courfeyrac grinned. "Whatever you say. Our definitions of legible might not be exactly on par with each other, but I'll try."

Enjolras nodded but then winced and closed his eyes again at the throb of pain that it sent through his head.

Combeferre noticed his reaction to simply nodding his head. "Lie down, if you go to sleep you might feel better when you wake up," he advised gently.

Enjolras didn't bother to respond but complied, lying down and pulling the covers over himself. "Could you turn the light off?" he finally muttered.

Combeferre had already reached for the lightswitch on the lamp and was turning it off. "Do you want us to stay here?"

After a long pause, Enjolras replied, "No, you can go, I'm fine."

Courfeyrac and Combeferre looked at each other and frowned, noticing the pause.

"Go to sleep, Julien," Combeferre finally stated, running a hand through the younger man's blond curls and standing up. "I'll be up for a while longer if you need anything."

* * *

**A/N: Complete! I'm planning on perhaps adding another chapter or two, which would have a bit more humor, more Grantaire, and more of Enjolras' stubbornness as he thinks he's getting better. What do you think?**

**Oh… and if you review, you get to become an honorary Ami (or Amie if you're a girl).**


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